Seeds Of Yesterday

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SEEDS OF YESTERDAY Jaid Black

Diary EntryYou died on a Sunday…

I haven’t seen Amy Hunter in over fourteen years, but yesterday morning when I found out about her death it affected me profoundly. I took the news as if we’d been an intricate part of each other’s lives clear up until the moment when she took her last breath.

Once upon a time, when we were young, Amy and I had been inseparable. We’d done everything together, gone everywhere together, earned detention at school together—hell, we even lost our virginity to the same asshole. (How Amy ever forgave me for that one I’ll never know.)

I suppose that’s why it hurts so much to lose her, even though, if I’m honest with myself, I’ve hardly thought about her at all over the years except in one of those rare moments of nostalgia when I remember days gone by. And yet, knowing that she is gone from the world hurts in a way I simply can’t quantify or qualify.

Maybe it’s because we were so young when we met, both of us just fourteen.

Maybe it’s because I loved Amy when I was a kid, back before I grew up and became the jaded person adults can’t seem to help but become.

When you’re fourteen, everything is so damn easy.

You love others quickly and completely, you hurt others quickly and completely and you forgive others quickly and completely. It’s nothing like being an adult, a time when you look at the world through skeptical eyes. A time when love comes slowly if at all, hurt happens rarely because you’re expecting it, and forgiveness is for the TSTL—Too Stupid To Live—types.

But with Amy—

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Oh God, Amy…

I can’t believe you’re dead, sweetheart.

I suppose her death shouldn’t have surprised me given her precarious health even back then. She’d had to shoot up with insulin three times a day long before I’d ever known her. At fourteen one never gives much thought to what childhood diabetes can do to a little girl’s system. When you’re that young, death is too far removed from your vocabulary for you to feel anything less than invincible. I’d always known that Amy had health problems. The fact that she could die from them never so much as occurred to me.

And now as I sit here in front of the computer screen, typing out my thoughts some eighteen years later, I find my eyes misting up as my gaze continuously strays toward the black-and-white photograph of a thirty-two-year-old Amy Hunter in Sunday’s obituary section of the local paper. Same laughing eyes, same dent in her chin—a hereditary dent she shared with her father Gus and her brother Daniel.

Same everything…almost.

What was gone from the thirty-two-year-old Amy was the innocence of youth, the belief in invincibility that makes fourteen-year-olds do stupid, reckless things. In its place was a quiet calm, an acceptance of mortality and of what could not be changed.

In that way the photograph resembled her older brother Daniel more than it did good-time, always-up-for-a-laugh Amy—the Amy I had known and loved with my whole heart.

Her brother Daniel—Daniel Michael “Straightlaced” Hunter.

Now there is a name I haven’t said aloud in years. Once the bane of my existence, now a distant memory recorded in the annals of my brain.

My senior by just two years, that age difference had seemed like a lot to me, way back when. I

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respected him in my own way—it’s hard not to respect such a rigidly controlled superhuman who knows exactly what he wants in life, where he is going, and how he plans to get there—but I didn’t like Daniel the first time I met him.

No, that’s not true, precisely. It was Daniel who didn’t like me.

At the time I had no idea why. All I understood was that he was very confrontational toward me and very worried about any potential bad influence I might have on “sweet little Amy”. Now, as a woman, I’m able to look back and see his attitude for what it was—a protective older brother who didn’t want his sickly sister in with the wrong crowd.

Amy and I were what they called “burnouts” back in high school. An ironic misnomer for me, given that I never touched drugs and excelled in my schoolwork. I was, thankfully, all talk and no action where the recreational habits of said clique were concerned. But, of course, Daniel didn’t know that.

And it wasn’t like I was going to tell him I’d never done a drug in my life. I had a rep to maintain, after all. A golden boy, jock-type, all he saw when he looked at me was the label “burnout” and the slutty, dope-using reputation that came with it. Definitely not the kind of friend he wanted his diabetic sister to hang out with.

The weird part was that, unlike all of the other golden boy, jock-types at school, I cared what Daniel Michael “Straightlaced” Hunter thought about me. Not that I ever let on as much. I felt unnerved and intimidated by the way his dark, brooding eyes would follow me around, watching me, waiting for me to screw up. I felt saddened by the way he seemed to size me up and habitually find me lacking.

I kept my sorrow to myself. After all, I was supposed to be tough as nails. If only. Ah, Amy. We had some good times, sweetheart…

And now I sit here at my computer, partially numb and partially pained, wondering whether or not it would be proper for me to attend the funeral of a woman I once called best friend. I want to be there for Amy, to let her know in my own way how much her life meant and how much her loss is felt. But at the same time I don’t wish to cause any undue stress to her family.

Amy’s parents have never thought much of me, you see. Daniel thinks even less—assuming such is possible.

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How could you die on a Sunday, damn it? You deserved to die on a Friday night…

Sundays have always been my least favorite day of the week. There is something fundamentally gloomy and dismal about them. It isn’t right that someone as full of life and finesse as Amy Hunter should die on the most staid, apathetic day of the week. Amy shouldn’t have died on a Sunday. She deserved to die on a Friday—the liveliest, most charismatic night of the week.

Oh sweetheart, I should have been there for you…

But then, I wish Amy had never died at all.

Chapter One Sixteen years earlier

“Trina, he is too cute. Admit it!”

“Ick! What’s to admit? Your taste grows worse,Ames.”

“Ames—why do you call me that? It makes me sound like a chauffeur or something.”

Katrina “Trina” Pittman tucked a light brown curl behind her ear as she grinned at her best friend.

“Good, because I need one. That hunk of junk I bought from all those nights of waiting tables broke down again.”

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“Again?” Amy sighed.

“’Fraid so.”

“Great. I was hoping we wouldn’t have to take the old-bag-mobile toFront Streetthis weekend, but it looks like it’s that or walk.”

Trina chuckled as she pulled a notebook out of her locker and slammed it shut.

“If your mom overheard you talking about her precious Cadillac like that she’d ground you for a month.”

Amy groaned. “Please don’t say the M word. I am so sick of that woman! I love her to death, but I’m sixteen now. That’s, like, practically a woman. If she doesn’t stop treating me like a baby…”

“Hey, at least you’ve got a mom to worry about you.” Trina sighed as she glanced up at the hall clock.

“Shit, I’ve gotta motor. Two minutes until English Lit.”

“Eeeeew. Hated that class. Better you than me, babe.”

“Gee thanks.”

Amy grinned. “Meet me in the parking lot after last period. I’ll give you a ride home in the old-bag-mobile.”

“Cool. Hey, I’ve got to split.”

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“See you.”

“Later,Ames.”

Trina took the stairs two at a time, not wanting to be late for Mr. Brizio’s class.

The guy was a jerk, truly enjoyed embarrassing people if they came in late. It wouldn’t matter to him that it was the last day of school before summer break and that everyone was running a little behind today.

Unfortunately, her class was supposed to meet in the library for its final session, which was clear across the other side of the school, two floors above the gymnasium.

By the time she’d reached the top of the third floor, her breathing had grown a bit labored. Nevertheless, she walked down the hallway at a brisk pace, telling herself she could still be on time. Or, she amended, she could if she knew where she was. She didn’t spend much time in the library, she thought ruefully, so this part of the school looked almost foreign to her.

Trina gripped the books and notebook tighter against her chest and jogged down the first corridor she came to. Wrong one—shit! She turned on her heel, preparing to dash back in the other direction, when her chin collided with a very hard, unrelenting chest. “Ouch!” she hissed as she fell back a step, dazed. The books fell from her grasp, crashing on the ground with a thud.

“You might want to watch where you’re going,” a very masculine and far too familiar voice murmured.

She stilled, her eyes rounding a bit. Her heart began to beat triple time in her chest, making her breasts heave just a little, just as they always did whenever he was near. She couldn’t quite bring herself to make eye contact, but everything below the neck looked as solid and powerful as it usually did.

But then Daniel Hunter would look solid and powerful even if he was skinny as a rail. He’d always had a presence about him. The football player muscles and vein-roped arms only added to it.

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She took a deep breath and expelled it, collecting herself. She just hoped he hadn’t noticed her reaction to him, a reaction she’d give anything not to have.

And why did she have that response anyway, damn it?

He hated her.

He’d always hated her.

“Sorry,” Trina whispered, her head coming up. Her nervous blue gaze clashed with his dark brown one. She felt a bit intimidated, but refused to show it. He always looked so rigid, so fucking emotionless. And so perfect. Not at all like her, with an average body given to chubbiness.

“I’m supposed to be in the library, only I don’t know where…”

Her voice trailed off as it dawned on her that she had just unthinkingly confirmed the stereotype he held of her. Her mouth worked up and down, but nothing came out, as she tried to figure out a way to recover from the slight she’d just dealt herself.

Daniel snorted, sarcastically amused.

“Shocking. You? Not know where the library is?”

Trina felt like crying on the inside, but she straightened her shoulders and showed him her tough outer shell. Someone like him, someone who had everything, wouldn’t understand what it meant to have to spend your every free moment waiting tables. But then someone like him wouldn’t have to worry about putting food on the table for a little sister because their father was too drunk to do it.

“Well,” she said in a clipped tone of voice, “it ain’t like they’re much use.” She wanted to cringe at her use of the word ain’t, but refused to. If he wanted a dopehead, slut bumpkin, then that’s just what he’d

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get.

“Your command of the English language is very impressive.”

His dark gaze ran over her face, down to her breasts, then back up to her eyes.

She felt her cheeks grow hot and hoped he chalked it up to anger rather than to the weird thumping that had started in her chest when he’d noticed her breasts. Insofar as she knew, he’d never noticed them before. Other boys did all the time, for they were large for a sixteen-year-old girl. She’d always looked older than her age. She’d stood her current five-foot-six since age twelve.

“Yup. This school done learned me good.”

One of Daniel’s eyebrows rose at her obvious sarcasm.

“Perhaps if you smoked a little less pot and did a little more studying, finding the library wouldn’t be such a difficult task.”

She wanted to grind her teeth together while flashing one of her many straight-A report cards at him. Instead, she assumed her cocky, haughty, whatever attitude.

“Thanks for your analysis,” Trina said as she ripped her books out of his hands.

“I’ll make sure I go home tonight and ponder that.” She gave him eyebrow for eyebrow as she turned to walk away. “While I’m smoking all that great dope, of course.”

Two large hands seized her from behind. Her breathing stilled.

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“The library,” Daniel murmured, “is that way. You were going the right way the first time.”

Trina flushed but said nothing. She could feel his unnerving gaze on her as she walked away and hightailed it to Mr. Brizio’s class.

*****

“Daniel is such a dweeb.” Amy rolled her eyes as she took a hit off a joint.

“Pay His Idioticness no attention. You want some of this?” She added.

Trina shook her head. “No. I don’t really like how it makes me feel. Hey,Ames, I hear there’s a party down on the riverfront tonight.” She grinned. “Mr. D’Amato actually gave me the night off, if you can believe it. You want to go?”

“Of course.” Amy snubbed out the joint and packed it away in a cigarette wrapper, then turned her attention back toward the road.

“Roll down your window. The last thing I need is for my bitch of a mother to smell this shit in her precious car.” “Maybe you shouldn’t smoke in it,” Trina said, frowning. “Especially while driving me around. I prefer not to die at sixteen, thanks just the same.”

Amy sighed. “Don’t start. You sound like—”

“Don’t say it! Do not say the D word. Or the M word. I’m not sure if you wanted to compare me to your brother or your mother, but I’m not up to either at the moment.”

Amy grinned. “Emotionless robot or Super Bitch. Yeah, I guess neither one is very complimentary.”

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Trina snorted at that. She knew the last time Amy had got caught smoking dope in the car she’d blamed it on Trina. She’d called her best friend out on it and they hadn’t spoken for a week, but she wouldn’t put it past Amy to do the same thing again. She loved Amy, but even she, her best friend, saw how self-serving she was. “Just make sure the car is aired out before you go home,” she said pointedly.

Amy was quiet for a minute. “I said I was sorry—”

“It’s over. But please, not again…okay?”

Amy nodded her agreement. “So,” she said, changing the subject, “I’ll pick you up at eight. All right?”

“Sure.” Trina’s absent gaze flicked toward the window. “Is Bobby going to be there, too?”

“I don’t know. I don’t care. No way would I ever see him again after the way he played us against each other. Asshole.”

Trina chuckled. “Is he the asshole or are we? I mean, he dated us both for over a month, we’re best friends, and yet we never knew.”

Amy frowned. “He is the asshole. Definitely. He convinced me to keep our ‘love’ a secret because his ex-girlfriend was trying to get over him.”

“Same thing here.” Trina grinned. “Only the ex-girlfriend wasn’t an ex, any more than our ‘love’ was love.”

“I just wish I hadn’t given my virginity to the asshole. God! If you look up ‘asshole’ in the dictionary there’d be a picture of his hairy butt right there.” “Dictionaries don’t have pictures.”

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Amy chuckled. “All right. Encyclopedia then.”

“Oh, there’s my street.” Trina sighed. She gathered her stuff up from the back of the car then turned to Amy. “I need to make dinner for my sister, but I’ll make sure I’m ready by eight.”

“That’s not right. Your father should be the one—”

“But he doesn’t.” She flashed Amy a smile as the Cadillac rolled to a stop in the gravel driveway. She didn’t like to discuss her father with anyone. Not even with her best friend. “See you at eight.”

“Cool. Hey listen!” Amy called out as Trina alighted from the passenger side.

Trina poked her head through the open window. “Yeah?”

“Wear something really kick-ass tonight. I plan on us finally getting the attention of Eric and his friends.”

“Oh geez. I don’t have any clothes that—”

“Just find some,” Amy interrupted as she put the car in reverse. “Otherwise we’ll be mismatched.”

Trina sighed. “What are you wearing?”

“Something that shows off my tits. See you at eight.”

“Fine,” Trina said, bemused. “Eight. Tits. Gotcha.”

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Chapter Two Trina obsessively checked her watch, praying Amy would hurry up. It was almostmidnight—her dad would throw the fit to end all fits if she didn’t hightail it home already.

Thanks for getting me in trouble yet again,Ames…

The party onFront Streethad been awesome—the most fun Trina’d had in all of her sixteen years! Eric’s friend Robbie had finally noticed her…maybe Amy had been right about wearing the tight muscle shirt and painted-on jeans that were so popular right now.

The party had been fun, but it was over. Everyone was heading for their cars, giving the street overlooking theCuyahogaRivera deserted, ghost-town sort of feel. Gone was the loud, thumping music and boisterous dancing. Shopkeepers were pulling down their shades and hanging up their CLOSED signs.

Things were getting spooky.

Shivering, Trina decided to go find Amy herself. She took the path that wound down to the river, hoping to find Amy and Eric there. The path was always dimly lit, an eerie contrast against the pounding, whooshing sound of the waterfall that emptied into the river.

Her teeth sank into her lower lip.

Where are you,Ames?

Rounding a corner, the sound of female giggling reached her ears. Trina breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that laugh all too well. Picking up her pace, she jogged down another bend, not stopping until she was face-to-face with her best friend. Her blue eyes widened.

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Oh my God.

She couldn’t believe what it was she was seeing. Trina knew that Amy loved to smoke marijuana—Trina didn’t approve, but she could live with it. What she had not known about her best friend, however, was that she was into snorting cocaine. It explained a lot, but she still couldn’t believe it.

“Amy!” Trina shouted, her heart thumping like mad against her breasts. Her nostrils flaring, she ran over to where the trio sat on a boulder and snatched away the razorblade Amy was using to separate the drug into lines. “What are you doing?”

She couldn’t speak. Her eyes were glazed over, her pupils dilated.

Eric grinned.

“Come join the party! Robbie was wondering when you would get here.”

The look on Trina’s face was one of disgust. Just a few minutes ago she’d been grateful that Robbie had finally noticed her. Now she would rather he hadn’t.

Her gaze flew to Amy. Her best friend’s face was a chalky white and paling by the second. “I think she needs to see a doctor,” she breathed out.

Eric’s smile dissolved. “Then take her yourself. No way am I going to an ER.”

Because they’d get arrested.

Robbie chimed in, defending him and Eric. “The stupid little slut should have known when she couldn’t take any more!”

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Anger toward Amy was quickly replaced by indignation and worry.

“Maybe you two junkies shouldn’t have given her any to begin with!”

Ignoring Eric and Robbie, Trina used every bit of strength she could muster to hoist Amy up onto her, piggyback-style.

Her heart whooshing faster than the waterfall next to her, the adrenaline thankfully kicked in. Within five minutes, Trina had Amy in her mother’s Cadillac. Within another ten minutes, she had her at the city’s only emergency room. Amy was looking worse by the second.

Please live! Oh God,Ames…!

“How much did she take?”

“Did you give it to her?”

“How long has she been unconscious?”

Doctors, nurses, and police officers rattled the questions off while Trina cried and paced in the waiting room. She didn’t have any answers. Eric and Robbie were the only ones that knew, and they had refused to accompany them to the ER.

“I don’t know!” Trina finally shouted. “I don’t know anything!”

“Sure she doesn’t.”

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At the sound of a familiar male voice, Trina’s pacing immediately ceased. Her head shot up. Standing in the waiting room was Amy’s crying mother, her worried father and a very angry Daniel. A police officer looked at Daniel, then over to Trina. He frowned.

“I think you better come with me, missy,” the officer said.

Trina’s face went ashen when the cop reached out and grabbed her arm.

The police officer believed Daniel, she realized, terrified. “But I didn’t do anything! All I did was bring Amy to the ER.”

“That girl is gutter garbage!” Mrs. Hunter screamed. “She’s a liar!”

Her heart sank, nausea overwhelming her. Trina had never felt smaller or more insignificant in her life. Mrs. Hunter was wealthy and well-respected in the community. If she said Trina was gutter garbage, she knew the officer would believe it as the gospel truth.

Led into a private room, it was an hour before Trina was released. The drug test the hospital had given her came back clean. There wasn’t even a trace of alcohol in her system, let alone a narcotic.

“Do you have someone to come pick you up?” the officer asked, his expression gentle. He sighed, taking in her unblinking expression. “I’m sorry I was rough with you earlier. You told the truth and the test proved that. I’ll make sure the Hunters know.”

Trina blinked. She cleared her throat.

“Please don’t tell them anything about me. They see what they want to see and it doesn’t matter what you say. They will always believe what they want to about me.”

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Silence.

“Amy is okay,” the officer said softly. “She’ll be in the hospital a while, but she’s going to live. Do you need a ride home, sweetheart?”

Trina briskly rubbed up and down her arms. She felt numb, shell-shocked.

“No. I’ll call my dad,” she lied. All she wanted to do was get out of there. She didn’t want to spend another moment in the hospital. Nor did she want an uncomfortably silent ride home in a police cruiser.

She forced a fleeting smile to her lips before repeating her position. “Thanks for the offer, sir, but I’ll go call my dad.”

*****

Trina quietly cried as she walked home, madly swiping away tears as they fell.

Living clear across town from the emergency room, it would be another hour or so before she reached her house. Rain poured down from the black sky, harsh and unrelenting. Perfect for her mood.

Perfect for disguising her tears.

The loud honk of a horn startled her. Glancing up, she squinted at the lights of an oncoming vehicle. Within seconds a sports car pulled up beside her. Her heart pounded as she realized who the car’s sole occupant was.

“What do you want, Daniel?” Trina asked, the fight draining out of her.

His dark eyes raked over her, probably noting her sopping wet hair and soaked clothes. The rain

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plastered the white muscle shirt she wore against her breasts, showcasing her body to the point that she might as well have not even worn a shirt. Her nipples poked against the fabric, making her look every inch the doped-up slut Daniel thought her to be.

“I’m going to give you a ride home,” Daniel muttered. “Get in.”

“Forget it.” She made to leave. “I’d rather walk.”

The passenger door flew open, crashing against its hinges.

“Get in,” he bit out. “Now.”

She hesitated.

“You’re going to catch pneumonia,” he said a bit less gruffly. “Get in the car, Trina.” As much as she hated it, he had a point. Begrudgingly relenting, Trina plopped down into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut.

“There. I’m in. Happy?”

His answering scowl told her all she needed to know.

Daniel Michael “Straightlaced” Hunter was doing the gentlemanly thing, regardless to how he felt about her as a person.

They rode in silence for the ten-minute drive, both of them staring at the road. By the time they pulled into Trina’s driveway, the rain was coming down even harder.

“It doesn’t look like anyone’s here,” Daniel muttered.

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Trina had been worried about her dad’s reaction to her tardiness and he wasn’t even home. No doubt drunk, he’d probably lost track of the time. Her younger sister, Sarah, was spending the night at a friend’s. At least she knew Sarah was okay.

“I’ll find a way inside.” She opened the sports car’s door. “I can squeeze through a window if the door isn’t unlocked.”

Daniel sighed. “I’ll help you.”

“I’m fine—”

“I said I’ll help you.”

Her nostrils flared. “Don’t you get it?” Trina wailed.

The tears came back unbidden. She couldn’t take another second of being anywhere near a Hunter. Especially that Hunter.

“I don’t want your help!” she cried. “Please just go away. Believe what you want to about me and go the hell away!”

Slamming the vehicle door shut, she ran toward the house. She was relieved to find that, as usual, her dad had forgotten to lock the front door. Throwing the dilapidated thing open, she fled into the safety of her home.

“Why did you give Amy those drugs?” Daniel raged, storming into the house on her heels. “Why? Don’t you know how sick Amy is? Don’t you even care?”

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Trina whirled around to face him. Thunder cracked, lightning flashed to semi-illuminate the tiny living room.

“I didn’t give her anything, you son of a bitch!” She began to hysterically sob, then picked up the remote control to her dad’s TV and hurled it at him. “Go away!”

“I don’t believe you,” Daniel gritted out, seizing her by the arms. “How else would Amy get her hands on cocaine? Answer me!”

“Maybe because she’s the junkie, not me!”

His breathing was heavy, his eyes on fire. Daniel’s brooding gaze raked over her breasts before settling on her face. One moment he was holding her roughly by the arms and a blink of an eye later his mouth was covering hers.

Hard, demanding, angry.

Trina kissed him back with just as much intensity, doing nothing to stop him when he began tugging at her wet clothes. Her muscle shirt came off first, followed by her jeans and underwear. A second later, one of her stiff nipples was in his warm mouth.

She gasped, her head lolling back just a bit as Daniel sucked hard on her nipple.

His powerful arms held her steady as he brought her down to the floor of the living room. Releasing her nipple with a popping sound, he quickly discarded his shirt, jeans and underwear.

Trina was about to shy away from him when she saw his huge erection spring free. She couldn’t believe Daniel was hard for her. Didn’t he hate her?

His mouth covered hers again as he settled himself between her thighs. They kissed long and ruthlessly while he used one hand to guide his cock toward her vagina.

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Breaking the kiss, Daniel stared down at Trina through his mysterious, dark gaze. Gritting his teeth, he impaled himself fully within her.

His eyes widened as she screamed, tears running down her cheeks. He stilled atop her, but she could feel his cock throbbing inside her tender flesh. His breathing was labored, his muscles tense.

“You’re a virgin?” he murmured.

Trina’s gaze skittishly avoided his. She swiped at a tear and said nothing. Daniel began to move within her, slowly, using a gentleness she had not anticipated.

She had thought the discovery would cause him to stop, but on the contrary, he seemed to want her more than ever.

Jaw tight and jugular vein bulging, Daniel stared down into her face as he sank in and out of her.

“Your pussy feels so good, Trina,” he said hoarsely. “God, you feel so good.”

He looked like he wanted to go slowly, but couldn’t stand it anymore. Picking up the pace, he pounded in and out of her, making her breasts jiggle beneath him.

She watched him through stunned eyes, unable to believe he was inside her.

His muscles tensing, Daniel came on a groan. His body convulsed atop hers, hot cum spurting up to fill her insides.

Their breathing mutually heavy, it was a long moment before either of them moved. They laid there in silence until Daniel at last got up off her.

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Trina sat up and watched him dress. When he was finished, he looked back down at her for a lingering moment, his dark gaze raking over her body before settling on her face. Closing his eyes briefly, he sighed, then made to speak.

Apparently thinking better of it, he shook his head and walked back to his car.

Diary Entry Okay, so I lied to Amy. But somehow it was easier to tell her that my cherry had been popped (that’s what we called it back then) by that loser, Bobby, instead of by her older brother.

Looking back, I doubt she would have cared. Sometimes I even wonder if she’d known all along that I’d carried a torch for Daniel from the moment his judgmental gaze had first clashed with mine. I never confessed the truth to her, but then, after that night I wasn’t allowed near her again. Mrs. Hunter blamed me for Amy’s drug habit—no less than I had been expecting.

Amy spent the entire summer in drug rehab, so it wasn’t like we could even sneak and be together. When summer ended, Amy was shipped off to a boarding school inMichiganand Daniel to a college in Boston.

I never saw Daniel again after that long ago stormy night when he took my virginity, so I gradually stopped thinking about him altogether. It took a while, maybe even a year or more if I’m honest, but by the time I took my baby sister Sarah and ran off toEnglandto attend college two years later, Daniel Hunter was as much a distant memory in my mind as my dead mother was.

In a way, the same thing happened with Amy.

The first time I saw Amy after she’d been sent away to boarding school was when she came home for the Christmas holiday my junior year of high school.

She called me on the phone, wanting to get together, so we snuck away and met down by the river on Front Street. We had a great time, just as we always did when we were together, but there was also an

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invisible wedge there between us that, until then, had never been present.

We both felt the barrier, I’m sure of it. We’d always been an unlikely match, what with me living on the wrong side of town, as poor as the day is long, and her living on the right side of town, her family affluent and cultured. Until that day we’d never realized the barrier existed, but we both recognized it that afternoon on the riverfront. We didn’t let it stop us from having a good day together, but I think we both knew it would be the last time we were ever together like that.

And, indeed, it was.

I ran into Amy a couple of times more over the years. Once when I was a senior in high school and once during college when my sister Sarah and I came home fromEnglandto visit Dad. (He went to rehab when I took off forTrinityCollegeatCambridgeUniversityand has been clean ever since, thank God.)

But it was never the same with Amy. Those couple of times when we ran into each other on the street had been sadly awkward. Forced smiles and uneasy chuckles—the kind of conversation that leaves you feeling as though you should have had something to say to the person you’d once called best friend, but just didn’t.

When I graduated from college, I could never bring myself to return to that tiny little town with all of its memories, most of them bad ones.Cuyahoga Fallsmade me think of Amy and Daniel, of wanting to be something more than that poor little daughter of an alcoholic, while secretly fearing I’d be stuck waiting tables for the rest of my life.

ButEnglandwas different.

Englandfelt like déjà vu, like home, from the moment Sarah and I stepped off the plane inLondon’s Gatwick airport. Nobody knew my history, nobody knew I was a nobody.

InCambridge, thanks to my writing scholarship, life could start over again and I could be all of the things I’d always longed to be with no one the wiser. I think Sarah felt the same way, for when she turned eighteen my junior year in college, she decided to stay with me and earn her degree at the same university rather than return to the States.

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Eventually Dad moved over, too. We lived together for a few years, all three of us, none of us particularly wanting that to change. Dad would teasingly grumble that Sarah and I should leave the nest and give him some space. I would teasingly remind him it was my nest—I’d bought the house with money I’d earned waiting tables at night.

Those were three terrific years. Sarah and I got back the dad we hadn’t known since Mom died. We spent a lot of time together doing the seemingly mundane—blaring loud music to dance to while we cleaned the cottage, walking to market to pick fresh produce for dinner that night. Mundane or not, it felt wonderful being together like that again with Dad sober.

On vacations we would tool aroundEurope, visiting everywhere fromBucharesttoZurich. We cheered on the bulls as they ran inPamplonaand watched the sun dip into the sea, turning the waters surrounding the Isle of Crete a haunting pink.

Those were good years.

No, those were great years.

Ironically enough, none of us ever spoke ofCuyahoga Fallsagain. It was like a collective memory we didn’t wish to entertain. A bittersweet memory for all of us.

Dad had met Mom and fallen in love with her in that tiny town, but he’d also watched her die there. Mom had wanted to be cremated, so it wasn’t like there was even a grave to visit, just a lot of memories of watching the woman he’d loved more than life itself slowly fade away, her body rotted with cancer.

For me there were good memories of Amy, but memories that forced me to recall what had become of our friendship. And there were other memories, too, recollections of poverty, of Dad’s alcoholism and, yes, of watching Mom die.

And then there was Daniel—memories of looking into his eyes and realizing I’d never be good enough for him. Memories of looking into his eyes as he thrust deep inside of me, hoping he’d love me as much as I loved him.

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He didn’t.

ButEnglandwas different.

I became a woman inEngland.

Once I reachedCambridge, I never thought back on Amy and Daniel. Well, nothing more than fleeting thoughts once a year at best, the sorts you entertain in flickering moments of nostalgia.

I have a new life now and one I cherish. I fell in love once and almost married my college sweetheart, Nigel, until he decided he was gay. (A long story—trust me when I say you don’t want to hear it.) Most importantly, I became everything I wanted to be and more.

One year became two, two turned to three, and before I knew what had happened I’d been living and working inEnglandfor fourteen years. Sarah became an actress; I became a playwright. Sarah moved to Londonand got her big break. She joined the cast of a popular television comedy that airs on the BBC while I remained inCambridge, developed my plays, and still teach at the university part-time. We all became British citizens. Dad retired from factory work when his daughters’ careers took off and he shuffles back and forth betweenLondonandCambridgeat his leisure.

All was perfect.

Life was bliss.

And then I got that telephone call…

They wanted me to come back toCuyahoga Falls. They wanted me to give the commencement speech at the high school. My alma mater—the alma mater I hadn’t thought of in years, and probably wouldn’t have thought about ever again had that phone call not came in.

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My last three plays have all been smashes, you see. I debuted the first one at the university with student actors and the last two inLondonwith a professional cast. A few months later my plays were being performed on Broadway to rave reviews, giving me instant fame in certain chic circles.

I’ll never forget those times when I bowed to standing ovations. That was Cool with a capital C, even if it felt a bit overwhelming to someone who’s basically shy.

And now that damn telephone call…

I’ll never know what it was that prompted me to go and deliver a commencement speech in a town I had no desire to ever lay eyes on again. Nor will I ever understand why I bothered to read the newspaper that was delivered to my hotel door the day before the speech was to be given. But I did—on both accounts. That’s when I learned that Amy had died. And oh, how the memories began to pound away.

Amy—oh God…

Now I’m sitting here in my hotel room freshly back from giving that damn speech, wondering whether or not I should delay my plane trip back toEnglandby a day and attend the funeral of a woman who had been my best friend.

A part of me wants to go and say goodbye, but another part of me wants to hightail it back toLondonon the next flight out.

I became a woman inEngland.

InCuyahoga FallsI’d always be a scared, lost, little girl.

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Chapter Three Thankfully and unsurprisingly, Amy Hunter’s funeral was heavily attended. The Hunters were still the most affluent and politically connected family inCuyahoga Falls—possibly in all ofOhio. The death of their only daughter drew a large crowd; some of them no doubt there for the right reasons, others just to stay in the Hunters’ good graces.

Trina wasn’t going to complain about the swarm of funeral attendees. It afforded her the ability to pay her last respects to Amy without unduly upsetting the family by her presence.

Dressed in head-to-toe black, Trina slunk into the back of the funeral parlor and took a seat near the far wall just as the pastor began delivering his sermon.

Taking a quick glance around, she espied the Hunter family up in the first row.

Mr. Hunter was still strong and strapping, his dark hair graying at the temples.

Mrs. Hunter looked as formidable as ever, her spine straight and proud.

She didn’t look much different than what Trina remembered. Perhaps the only noticeable difference was her long, golden hair was now white-blonde, obviously dyed, and cropped fashionably short.

“And now,” the pastor said, snagging Trina’s attention, “Amy’s brother, Daniel, would like to say a few words about his sister.”

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Trina’s teeth sank into her lower lip as she watched Daniel Hunter rise from the seat adjacent to his father. Her heartbeat picked up upon seeing him, immediately noting that the years had been more than kind to him. Back in high school, she hadn’t thought it possible for Daniel to be any more handsome than what he already was. She had been wrong.

The dark, brooding eyes hadn’t changed, nor had the grimness of his expression.

His face, on the other hand, had matured into that of a powerful, masculine, thirty-four-year-old man. His body musculature, evident even beneath the designer Italian suit he wore, looked impossibly more massive and honed than it had back in the glory of his high school football days.

She had heard through the grapevine that he was now a prominent, powerful lawyer. No surprise there. “Good morning,” Daniel said in the commanding, larger-than-life tone he had always possessed. “I’d like to thank each and every one of you for coming here today to show your respects to my sister.”

Trina closed her eyes briefly. She willed her heart to stop pounding. She hadn’t thought that seeing Daniel again after all of these years would affect her as ruthlessly as it was. Again, she had been wrong.

You are here for Amy—just Amy. Let the old ghosts rest, Trina. What happened between you and Daniel was over and done with sixteen years ago.

“Amy was only with us for thirty-two short years, but…” Trina heard Daniel’s voice from somewhere in the back of her conscious mind, but her thoughts were elsewhere, plagued by bittersweet memories.

Amy laughing and screaming as they rode the roller coasters at the carnival that made its way into town once per year. Amy trying to tease Trina’s curly hair into the “in” feathered look of the Eighties—Trina had ended up with a head that resembled a cotton swab. Amy’s dimpled smile. Amy in the hospital after she’d accidentally shot up with too much insulin.

Amy had been…human.

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Good and bad, dark and light, yin and yang. A normal sixteen-year-old girl when last they’d been together. She had her faults, but she’d had just as many attributes. It was easy to forgive her for the bad times, for she’d given Trina many, many more good times.

Oh, sweetheart, I wish I’d been there to hold your hand. If only I’d known how ill you were…

It had been eighteen years since Trina had publicly cried, but she felt the tears welling up. Her head came up slowly, a single tear tracking down her cheek. She looked back up at Daniel. Their gazes clashed.

Trina’s heart threatened to beat out of her chest when she realized he recognized her. He paused for a moment in his speech, their eyes locked on each other.

Quickly looking away, he resumed the delivery of Amy’s eulogy.

You never should have come here. The Hunters have always hated you. What were you thinking? You should have gone to Amy’s grave later, alone, and paid your respects. Trina’s gaze flicked toward the open coffin. Even from this distance, Amy’s profile didn’t resemble the girl she had once known at all. She didn’t even look like the thirty-two-year-old woman whose photograph she’d seen in the obituary. Her face was bloated, the makeup the morticians had caked on her too orange.

She knew in that moment that she didn’t wish to walk by Amy’s coffin after the service drew to a close. She wanted to remember the laughing, happy Amy. Not the plastic caricature of her lying in the casket.

Besides, Trina reminded herself as the service came to a close, if she walked toward the front of the room, all of the Hunters—not just Daniel—would know she was here. Trina didn’t care for Mrs. Hunter any more than the matriarch cared for her, but Amy was her daughter…she deserved to mourn her without Trina making her feel even worse than she already did.

Standing up at service’s end, Trina nervously smoothed out the black, Chanel dress she wore. Taking a deep breath, she headed toward the far doors, the same ones she’d snuck in through. Giving Amy’s

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coffin one final glance, she smiled sadly and prepared to leave.

Her blue gaze was snagged by Daniel. She stilled, her face feeling hot as she watched him stare at her. Standing next to his sister’s coffin, he was even more somber than what was normal for him. Those dark eyes raked over her, assessing her, betraying no emotion.

Trina blinked.

Sighing, she broke his stare, turned, and walked away.

Tomorrow evening couldn’t arrive fast enough to suit her. She wanted this day over and done with. Her flight didn’t leave for another twenty-four hours and every second she spent in this wretched city with all its wretched memories was a second too long.

Trina opened her balcony window, then stepped out into the twilight. Wrapping her bathrobe securely around her, she sucked in a deep breath of cool air, her hands bracing the balcony rails as she peered over the edge.

The gorge lay below her, the eerily familiar whoosh-whoosh sound of its waterfall drawing her attention.

Amy… God, how everything reminded her of Amy and Daniel.

There had been so much more to her existence here than both of them combined, yet every memory, every nostalgic thought, seemed to focus on them. It was as if her mind had become a broken record, unable to home in on anything but one night in time—the night Amy had been hospitalized.

The night Daniel had taken her virginity.

She thought back on the funeral, on how she’d felt upon seeing Daniel again. Her heart had thumped dramatically. He had been, after all, not only her first lover, but also her first love. The boy inside him

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would own a piece of her soul until the day she died.

The waterfall whooshed loudly, snapping Trina back to the here and now. The swirling gorge below was a whirlwind of haunted memories. She blinked.

“It was sixteen years ago,” Trina whispered to the waterfall. “Give me some peace.”

It didn’t listen.

In that moment Trina realized this was the last time she’d lay eyes on the river.

She had known that returning toCuyahoga Fallswould be painful—she just hadn’t counted on it being quite this excruciating.

She drank in the memories, allowing herself to be swallowed up by them a final time. She smiled through the tears.

Trina didn’t belong here.

She never had. She let go of the anguish and cast it into the gorge, back where it needed to be. The bubbling torrent of the river had sustained her through many difficult nights in her childhood, but she was grown up now and could stand on her own two feet.

“Thank you,” she whispered to the pounding waters below, as though it could hear and understand her. “Thank you for taking care of me all those years until I found my way home.”

*****

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“I’m sorry for your loss,” Melinda Calloway demurred. “Such a shame.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Lisa Hamilton quickly cut in. “Terrible.”

“A pity.”

“Uh-huh. Pity.”

Daniel Hunter was an expert at hiding his emotions and this ridiculous conversation proved to be no exception. He felt like shouting at them for showing up to a funeral they had no business attending, but years of rigid social training had taught him to hold his tongue and politely incline his head instead.

“Thank you,” he muttered.

They hadn’t known Amy. None of them had. To them, her death had been but a convenient excuse to show up and feign sympathy.

Neither Melinda nor Lisa had exactly been shy about their desire to snag Daniel as a husband—everyone in town knew they wanted him. They were constantly trying to outdo each other and invariably showed up to any function Daniel was attending. Even, disgusting as it was, to his sister’s funeral.

He possessed no interest in either of the women, but was always cordial when he saw them. They had known each other all their lives, after all. They’d grown up in the same circles and attended the same parties and corporate functions. Their parents had been friendly acquaintances for ages.

Daniel couldn’t wait to get the hell out of here.

“I’ll see you at the house,” Daniel murmured to his parents. He patted his father on the back. “I’ve got to take care of some neglected business, but I’ll be over before I return toCleveland.”

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Later, when the townsfolk had left and he could be alone, Daniel would return to his sister’s grave to say goodbye. That would be a private moment, one he wouldn’t share with a bunch of people who never really knew her. There had been only one other funeral attendee who had known the Amy that Daniel had known, but she hadn’t shown up at the graveyard.

He could hardly say he blamed her. Daniel solemnly made his way toward his Jaguar. He punishingly ran a hand through his short, closely cropped, dark hair.

He couldn’t believe he’d seen her.

Trina.

She was here—back inCuyahoga Falls. He hadn’t seen her in sixteen years, but he would have recognized her anywhere. Same voluptuous physique—large breasts and long legs. Same unruly, light-brown hair—threaded with golden highlights and falling to mid-back. Her face had matured in a distinctly sexy way. Gone was the chubbiness of youth and in its place was a sculpted, refined face with feminine angles and high cheekbones.

A more beautiful girl had never existed than Katrina Pittman.

A sexier woman didn’t exist now.

Daniel knew she’d been living inEnglandfor the past fourteen years. There were very few people in this small town, if any, that hadn’t read about her success.

Just a year ago, she’d given a phone interview to the Cleveland Plain Dealer, her accomplishments highlighted on the front page.

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You became everything that Amy told me you always wanted to be…

Daniel opened his Jaguar’s door and took a seat behind the wheel.

He revved up the engine, closing the door simultaneously.

He was so happy that Trina had found her happy ending.

And so sad that he wasn’t a part of it.

Chapter Four A knock at the hotel room door startled Trina. Frowning, she hurried in from the balcony, wondering who it could possibly be. She hadn’t ordered room service yet. Nor was she expecting any deliveries.

“One moment, please,” she called out, winding her hair into a loose knot on top of her head. “I’m coming.”

She opened the door with a polite smile on her face, expecting to be greeted by a member of the hotel’s

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staff. The brooding eyes that addressed her instead forced the smile from her lips and caused her pulse to soar.

“Daniel,” she breathed out. “What are you doing here?”

Good God, he looked even more sinfully handsome up close than he had from afar earlier today. The aura of controlled power he’d always possessed was just as cloying, if not more so.

“Trina,” Daniel murmured.

His dark eyes, those same dark eyes that hadn’t gazed into hers for over sixteen years, locked with hers. “May I come in?”

Her mouth worked up and down, but nothing came out. He used her hesitation to seize the moment and brush past her into the hotel room.

Trina took a deep breath. She closed the door, and then turned to Daniel. They looked at each other for a long moment, neither of them saying a word. There was so much between them—too much between them—that words weren’t necessary anyway.

“I wanted to thank you for coming to Amy’s funeral.”

Trina stared at Daniel, but couldn’t seem to speak. Her heart was beating like crazy, thumping against her chest as though it meant to break out. She couldn’t believe he was here. She also couldn’t believe he’d thanked her.

She blinked once and delicately cleared her throat.

“I-I was in town and I saw the obituary notice and…” She sighed, meeting his intimidating gaze. “I loved Amy once,” she said gently. “It was a long time ago, but I’ll always carry the memories we created together in my heart.”

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“Me too.”

Trina smiled. “Did she ever lighten up on you? You know, quit treating you like the enemy?”

His gaze never broke from hers, but a small smile cracked his otherwise stoic façade. “Eventually,” Daniel said quietly. “We’ve always been close though, despite whatever she might have said about me when we were kids.”

“I know. Amy always loved you. You were her hero.”

She felt tears gather in her eyes and quickly batted them away. Daniel had been her hero, too. Even after the night they’d made love, she had still revered him. In her own way, she probably always would.

“Can I offer you a cup of coffee?” Coffee was a safe subject. The past was not.

“No. But thank you.”

Silence.

Trina’s gaze broke from his. He’d always wielded such an unnerving presence. It hadn’t diminished over the years. If anything, it was a thousand times stronger.

Neither had the sexual tension that had always existed between them waned in the slightest. It was even more intense now, despite everything, and Trina knew that Daniel recognized it as well. His eyes, always so unfathomable, burned with a dangerous fire in their deepest depths.

“Why are you here?” Trina asked again.

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She straightened her spine, her nerves frayed. The sooner he was out of sight, the sooner he’d be out of mind. She hoped. “I’m sorry if my presence at the funeral upset your mother. I had hoped she wouldn’t see me—”

“I’m the one who’s sorry,” Daniel interrupted.

Her head snapped up. Her blue eyes rounded.

Daniel ran a hand over his freshly shaved jaw. He looked tired, a bit weary, like a man who’d been through hell and back.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Trina told him in clipped tones. Only a lifetime of making me feel like I wasn’t worthy of you or Amy. “Really.”

His frown told her he didn’t believe her.

“I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing,” Trina continued, walking past him to open up the hotel room door, “but I’m fine. What happened was a long time ago.” She pasted a fake smile on her lips, the one she’d seen his mother wield like a sword so many times. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a flight to catch tomorrow and I really need some sleep.”

Their gazes met and locked.

“I’m proud of you,” Daniel murmured.

Trina’s nostrils flared as she tried her damnedest not to react to his statement. No tears. No vulnerability.

Before she had moved toEngland, dreams of showing up the Hunters were all that had sustained her through high school. She had wanted to become the success she was, if for no other reason than to rub

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their noses in it.

Now that the day had arrived, those old fantasies held no allure. They were a relic of the past, much like her father’s alcoholism and Amy’s transgressions against their friendship.

“Thank you,” Trina said a bit shakily. “I appreciate that.” Daniel inclined his head, a small smile twisting his features. “Have a safe flight back toEngland,” he said softly, his searing gaze never leaving hers. “I look forward to seeing your next play.”

Trina was too overwrought to speak. She weakly nodded her head, then accepted a small kiss to her cheek when Daniel leaned over.

“Goodbye, Trina,” Daniel said, his voice a hot whisper next to her ear. It made every nerve ending jolt to life, her pulse skyrocket. “No matter where life takes you, always know how damn proud of you I am.”

She closed her eyes as he made a quiet exit, the door shutting resolutely behind him. Trina stared after Daniel long after he’d departed, her heart wrenching even more severely than it had on that night sixteen years in the past.

***** “Are you certain it was her, Gus?”

“Yes, I am. She hasn’t changed very much over the years.”

“Of that I have no doubt.” A feminine snort punctured the air.

“Melissa!”

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“Well, it’s true!” She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I don’t care how much money she makes these days. The girl is gutter garbage! She always has been and she always will be.”

“Mother,” Daniel murmured, “that’s enough.”

“Money doesn’t buy class,” Melissa Hunter instructed her husband and son.

“Apparently not,” Gus sarcastically muttered under his breath, downing a glass of vodka.

“Gus Hunter! How dare—”

“When are you going to accept the fact that Katrina Pittman had nothing to do with our daughter’s lifelong addiction?”

“Never. That’s when.”

Daniel frowned at his mother, his fingertips steepled atop the oak dinner table.

His voice was cool and controlled, but his dark gaze had narrowed. “In case it’s escaped your notice, Mother, Trina was subjected to random drug testing throughout high school.” His eyebrows rose. “Thanks to your interference.”

“And she passed every time,” Gus said on a chuckle.

His father enjoyed baiting his mother. Daniel had no idea why or how they had been together for so long when it was obvious Gus couldn’t stand his wife.

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Daniel couldn’t say he blamed him. He loved his mother, but he didn’t like the person she had become over the years.

He’d been at his parents’ house for less than fifteen minutes and he was already wanting to leave—nothing less than usual thanks to good ol’ Mom. She was so damn unforgiving. Even when, like in Trina’s case, there was nothing to forgive.

It was Trina who needed to forgive the Hunters. The older his mother got, the more difficult her rigid personality was to put up with.

Nevertheless, Melissa Hunter was still his mother.

He loved her. It was difficult to remember the woman she’d been before Amy had started taking drugs, but Daniel knew she was still in there somewhere. He supposed that was why his father had never divorced her. Perhaps he too kept hoping that one day the woman he’d married would come back to him.

“Let Amy go,” Daniel murmured. “You did everything a mother could do for her, but there was no helping her.”

Gus closed his eyes and sighed.

“Apparently I didn’t do enough,” Melissa said, her icy voice slightly cracked. She stood up, smoothing out her fashionable skirt with both hands. “Or else she’d still be alive.”

“Melissa…” Gus broke in.

“I’m tired.” She forced a smile to her lips. “I’m going to bed. It’s been a long day.”

“Of course it’s been a long day. We buried our daughter, Missy.” Gus sighed, but relented. “Go on. I’ll be up in a moment.”

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Daniel watched his mom disappear up the twisting staircase. His father rose to his feet, drawing his attention.

“Are you going to be okay, Dad?”

“Eventually.” Gus’s smile was sad, his expression reflective. “I just wish Amy would have had a chance at a real life. She was an addict before she was even old enough to know what an addict was.”

Daniel understood what he meant. His sister had been a self-medicating user. As a child, her diabetes had racked her body so badly that sometimes it was all she could do to get out of bed. Later they would find out that she was not only diabetic, but suffered from a chronic pain disorder as well.

The fatigue and shooting pains had kept Amy from all sorts of activities—one year it had even kept her from school. She had yearned to be a normal child.

Somehow the drugs had made her feel like one.

Or they had, anyway, until they took over. Pretty soon there was no more Amy, only a soulless shell of her former self waiting to die.

“She’s finally at peace,” Gus said quietly. He stared at a photograph of his daughter, pictures the only thing any of them had left to hold onto. “No more pain. No more suffering.”

“Yes, Amy is finally at peace.” Daniel’s gaze flicked to the photograph his father seemed to be memorizing. If only he could have done more. A brother should have been able to help.

Daniel sighed.

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If only, if only, if only.

“Hopefully one day soon the rest of us will find peace, too.”

Coming back toCuyahoga Fallswas always difficult for Daniel. As a child he’d loved the smallOhiotown, but through the years, and especially after he’d left for college, it had become nothing but a bad association in his mind.

It reminded him of all those years he’d tried to help his sister, to no avail. And, he thought as he left the house he’d grown up in and climbed into his car, it reminded him of how he’d lost the only person on earth he’d ever really cared about besides his immediate family.

All of his life, Daniel had loved but one girl. As a boy, his mother’s interference had made it impossible to act upon those feelings. Back in high school he had kept her at bay by being as mean and cutting to her as possible.

She wasn’t one of them, Melissa Hunter had constantly reminded him. She would never be one of them.

Lucky Trina. Daniel had resisted his feelings toward Katrina Pittman until the night Amy had landed in the hospital. Everything had changed that awful and wonderful night.

Too upset to fall back on his usual self-control, too distraught and powerless to help his sister, every ounce of rage toward fate and every drop of pent-up passion toward Trina had exploded on her.

He had been her first. If he never possessed another part of her, at least he would always retain that knowledge.

He’d never stopped thinking of her. He doubted he ever would. But, Daniel understood with a heavy heart, she would never forgive him for what he’d done to her.

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He couldn’t say he blamed her.

He hadn’t forgiven himself.

Chapter Five She needed to get out ofCuyahoga Falls. Now. Not tomorrow, not in an hour, but right now. It began to storm, terrible bolts of thunder and lightning cracking the sky outside her hotel room window. Rain slashed down from the heavens, a violent downpour so normal forOhioin the summer.

They say it rains a lot in merry ol’England. Obviously whoever they were, they hadn’t been to Cuyahoga Falls.

Trina packed her bags quickly, as though her sanity depended on immediate escape. A part of her wished she’d never set foot on that plane in Gatwick Airport, but the overriding part was glad she had. She got to tell Amy goodbye. She got to hear Daniel tell her that he was proud of her.

A whirlwind of emotions assaulted her. Since moving to Cambridge, Trina hadn’t been the type to run away from things. But Daniel…

How could she do anything but run?

The truth hit her hard, straight in the belly, forcing her to hold her middle and steady her rapid breathing. For sixteen years she had been running away from him, refusing to remember that he had always been her most poignant love, perhaps her only love. Men had come and men had gone, but none of them could fill Daniel Hunter’s larger-than-life shoes. Deep down inside she wondered if she’d known all along that Nigel was gay.

She had told herself she was in love with her college sweetheart, but in retrospect those emotions paled

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in comparison to the ones she experienced whenever she stood in Daniel’s commanding presence.

For better or for worse, good memories or bad, nobody could replace Daniel in her life or in her heart. She would always love him. Always. And yet, sometimes that esoteric emotion just wasn’t enough. There was an ocean’s worth of waters under the bridge between them.

“I need to get out of here,” Trina muttered to herself, slamming her suitcase shut.

“Now.” She added.

A boom of thunder struck, the deafening sound jarring. The overhead light blinked out, leaving a sizzling sound in its wake. The moon poured in, offering slight illumination. The door to her hotel room crashed open and Daniel stood there, soaked to the bone.

Their gazes clashed and held. Their breathing, heavy, matched in tempo. Those ruthless dark eyes of his were on fire, the sexual tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife.

“I can’t let you leave,” Daniel rasped. The remnants of rain he’d brought with him from outside continued to drip down his face. “Not like this.”

One minute he was halfway across the room, the door wide open behind him.

The next thing Trina knew the door slammed shut and, on a low growl, she found herself where she hadn’t been in sixteen years.

In Daniel Michael Hunter’s powerful arms.

She clung to him, kissing him as forcefully and passionately as he kissed her.

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Trina moaned into his mouth, pulling off his wet tie and removing his soaked clothes as fast as her fingers would work.

“I’ve loved you my whole life, Trina,” Daniel said hoarsely, more emotion in his voice than she’d ever heard before. He continued to kiss her in between words, his hands sifting through her hair. “I’ll never stop.”

She wanted to cry.

And sing and dance and smile. And cry some more.

“Daniel,” Trina gasped, her eyes closing as he kissed her neck. “This can’t be real.”

The little girl inside her had longed to hear those words for more years than she could remember. The woman she now was had just heard them.

This had to be a dream. It was the only explanation.

He undid the belt to her bathrobe, then opened it and pulled it off. His eyes narrowed in desire at the sight of her nude body, his hands feverishly palming her large breasts. He massaged Trina’s nipples with his thumbs, growling a bit in his throat as she moaned.

“Daniel,” she breathed out, pressing her breasts into his hands. “Please suck on them.”

He gave her what she wanted, his hands forcing her breasts together so he could suck on her stiff, aching nipples. He popped one into the heat of his mouth, groaning as he sucked on it. She hissed, her hands fisting in his wet, dark hair.

“Harder,” she begged. “Please.”

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Daniel drew from her harder, until she was so aroused she could barely stand.

He swiped his tongue across the erect nipple until he reached the other one, then pulled it in his mouth, repeating the process.

“Oh God,” Trina moaned. “Oh yes.”

He released her nipple with a popping sound, the echo reverberating in the hotel room. Her hands loosened his belt and quickly discarded it. Her fingers worked at the buttons of his trousers, undoing them, then pulling them down.

His long, thick cock sprang free. She grabbed it by the base and squeezed, aroused by the sound of Daniel sucking in his breath.

“I need to be inside you,” he told her, his voice gravelly. His eyelids were heavy, drugged with arousal. “Now.” He stepped out of his clothes and stood before her naked, a modern-day warrior chiseled from unyielding, heavy muscle. Trina studied his body for a lingering moment, enthralled by the changes age had brought to it.

Dark hair sprinkled his chest, neither too much nor too little. It tapered into a thin line that trailed down to his navel, then lower, to his dark thatch of curls.

He was breathtaking.

Trina broke her stare and glanced to the bed. His gaze followed hers. Without a word, she turned, giving him a view of her rounded ass while she walked over to it and crawled in the middle. She turned onto her back and stretched out, spreading her thighs wide open.

Daniel’s chest rose and fell in time with his labored breathing as he stared straight at her aroused, glistening flesh.

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“Maybe I don’t need to be inside your pussy quite yet,” he murmured.

Trina raised an eyebrow, confused. The uncertainty lasted but a moment, for a second later Daniel joined her on the bed, situated himself between her thighs and dove, face first, for her pussy.

“Oh God,” she hissed, arching her back as his mouth clamped around her clit.

“Daniel.”

He purred as he sucked on her, drawing firmly from her sensitive clit. She bucked up again, moaning, her legs wrapping around his neck and forcing his head to stay between her legs.

Daniel sucked harder and harder, the pressure overwhelming her. His lips worked her into a sensual frenzy, inducing her nipples to stab up further and her belly to clench.

“Daniel.”

Trina came loudly, violently, groaning with the heaviness of her release. Her thighs shook around his neck, weak and unable to hold him there any longer.

“You are so damn sexy, Trina,” Daniel praised her, his voice low and hungry.

His face slowly left her pussy and emerged into her line of vision as he came down on top of her. His nostrils flared, inhaling the scent of her orgasm.

“I need to be inside you.”

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He guided his erection toward the entrance of her vagina, one powerful biceps bulging as it flexed. It had been so long since he’d touched her, so long since she’d felt this alive with a man.

Their gazes met. She held her breath.

“Trina,” Daniel ground out, pushing his cock into her flesh. His fingers threaded possessively through her hair, holding onto her as he fully impaled her. “God.”

Thunder boomed in the close distance, a streak of lightning further illuminating the room. It was as if fate was intent on replaying the events of a night long gone, maybe this time with a slightly better ending.

Was there such a thing without Daniel?

Could there ever be such a thing?

Trina cried out at his invasion, her head lolling back on her neck. He wasted no time in further preliminaries, thrusting in and out of her with determined, possessive strokes.

“Daniel.”

He rode her body hard, slick skin slapping against slick skin. Daniel moaned as he fucked her, a heady sound that heightened her already significant arousal.

“Your pussy is so tight,” Daniel growled, his jaw tight. “Damn, you’re killing me.”

He took her harder and deeper, fast and merciless. He fucked Trina with strokes that branded, slamming in and out of her, over and over, again and again. His fingers tightened in her hair.

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“This is my cunt,” he rasped, pounding into it as if emphasizing his words.

“Mine.”

His words were like dark magic, provocative and a bit frightening. But mostly provocative.

Trina’s nostrils flared as she threw her hips back at him. She met his every thrust, fucking him as hard as he was fucking her. The sound of her pussy suctioning him in and trying to keep him there reached her ears.

“Why did you let me go?” she ground out, crimson fingernails digging into his muscled back. “Why?”

Daniel didn’t answer her. He rode her harder, impaling her flesh with his cock.

He fucked her harder and deeper and—

“Trina!”

Daniel came on a roar, his eyes closing and body convulsing. He bared his teeth just a little, animalistic release consuming him. “Keep fucking me,” he ordered her, his jaw clenching hotly. “Milk my cock with that sweet cunt, baby.”

Trina threw her hips at him wildly, basking in his long moans. She fucked him until he collapsed on top of her, his breathing heavy and body slick with perspiration.

They laid in silence, their heartbeats both working overtime. Daniel continued to hold her, giving Trina the feeling that he never wanted to let go. She reveled in his embrace, not sure what the next minute would bring, but harboring no regrets at having made love with Daniel again. When at last their breathing steadied, Daniel moved off Trina. He fell onto his back, a powerful arm coming around her shoulders to embrace her.

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“I was young and dumb,” Daniel murmured, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. “And you still had places to go and plays to write.”

Trina stilled. She had almost forgotten the question she’d raged at him during sex, the question of why he had let her go.

“You deserved better than me and my family, Trina.”

Her blue eyes rounded. Indescribable emotions wrenched her heart. Daniel’s smile was genuine and more than a little sad.

“I’ve always known that.” ***** Pounding rain and crackling thunder caused Daniel to rouse from slumber. His eyes drifted open, slowly adjusting to the darkness. A beam of moonlight spilled in the hotel room, illuminating Trina’s profile. He stilled.

She was awake—awake and watching him.

Arousal immediately engulfed him, his cock stiff and standing upright. Precum dripped from the head, a gnawing desire to be inside the woman he’d loved his entire life gripping him.

Would she ever forgive him?

Could she ever forgive him?

“Daniel,” Trina whispered, her blue eyes drugged with passion.

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“Yes?”

“There’s something I’ve always wanted to say to you, but I…”

Every muscle in his body clenched with anticipation of what Trina was trying to say. He longed to force a confession out of her, but realized that this wasn’t the time or place.

It was too soon.

Too many warring emotions were reflected in her gaze.

“It’s all right,” he assured her. He lifted a hand to her face, his fingertips brushing back an unruly curl. “You don’t have to say anything, Trina. Not until you’re ready.”

Her smile was soft. “Thank you,” she said gently.

Daniel feared she wanted him to leave.

The hesitation in her eyes spoke volumes.

He thought to spare her the unsavory task of asking him to go by doing the gentlemanly thing and departing without her prompting. But then her small hands were gripping his cock by the root and squeezing it, and Daniel knew he couldn’t tear himself away from the bed they shared if his life depended on it. Daniel sucked in a breath as he watched his cock disappear between Trina’s full, sexy lips. His fingers threaded into her hair, pulling it back so he could watch.

She sucked on him hard, a barely audible moan purring in the back of her throat.

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She took his cock in all the way to the back of her throat, forcing a hiss of approval out of him.

“Trina,” he ground out, his jaw clenching hotly. “Faster, baby.” His breathing grew heavy, the need to come already tantalizingly close. “Suck me off fast.”

She did as he wanted, her head bobbing up and down in hard, deep sucks. He groaned as her mouth fucked his cock, the sight of her lips enveloping him over and over, again and again, driving him crazy. “I’m coming,” Daniel said hoarsely, unable to stave off his orgasm. “Oh shit—I’m—Trina.”

Daniel growled as he exploded, hot cum shooting out of his cock and into the depths of her throat. His muscles tensed and his jugular bulged as she kept sucking on him and sucking on him, treating his cock like a lollipop.

“Trina,” Daniel panted, every nerve in his body on fire.

“Baby…thank you, sweetheart.”

Her lips released his cock with a popping sound. She gripped his semi-erect penis by the head, her tongue darting out to lick up the last droplets of his cum.

A sexier woman had never lived. Nobody could ever hope to compare.

Within moments she crawled on top of him, wanting him inside her. At thirty-four it typically took Daniel some time between orgasms to get hard again. But this was Trina. Apparently his heart wasn’t the only part of him that recognized who she was.

“Daniel,” she whispered, kissing his eyes, his nose, his cheeks. “Make love to me.”

It was his pleasure.

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A pleasure he wished could go on forever.

Chapter Six “This is the last call for flight 7 to London, England. All remaining passengers must board at this time…”

Trina took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

Smiling resignedly, she gave the Cleveland airport a final glance, knowing in her heart of hearts she’d never see it again. She had waited until the last possible second to board, both the girl she had been and the woman she now was hoping that Daniel would come to say goodbye.

Apparently that wasn’t meant to be. And really, was there ever such a thing as goodbye when talking about a woman’s first love?

No. There wasn’t. She might not ever lay eyes on Daniel Hunter again, but he would be with her in Cambridge forever.

Trina took her seat in the first-class cabin, reclining the chair all the way back so she could get some rest. She spent the next seven hours tossing and turning instead, memories of her last night with Daniel playing and replaying in her mind.

They had made love five times. Each time had been better, more special, more bonding, than the last. She had been too confused to say much when it was time for her to leave him, other than wishing him well and thanking him for another glorious night.

She had almost told him how she felt about him, but for some reason the words wouldn’t come out. Trina promised herself it was for the best, that professing a lifelong love would have only served to

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convolute already murky waters.

Daniel’s life and law firm were in Ohio.

Trina’s life and work were in England.

As difficult as it was to lose Daniel for a second time, she would never regret last night. Being with him, hearing him profess to having loved her when she thought her love had been unrequited…

The moments they spent together had been, in their own way, healing. They had torn her apart and put her back together again. This time for the better. Her sleep was restless, her thoughts occupied. She was surprised to hear the pilot announce the plane’s imminent arrival into Gatwick Airport. She stretched and yawned, blurry-eyed from lack of REM sleep.

Trina repositioned her seat until she sat straight up, deciding she was too exhausted to return to Cambridge today. She’d sleep over at her sister Sarah’s London flat and get back to the reality of work the following day.

The flight attendant handed her a coupon given only to first-class passengers. It allowed her to get through Customs faster, usually one-tenth of the time it took the riders in coach. Heart heavy and energy depleted, Trina was especially happy for that little perk today.

She walked as if in a daze, carryon luggage in tow.

The trek from the gate to the Customs area seemed to go on forever, every step heavier than the last. She missed Daniel already. If she had thought getting over him was tough the first time, moving on might well be impossible this time.

“Welcome back to England,” a Customs and Immigration agent with a Cockney accent greeted her. He stamped her British passport.

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“Thank you. May I ask what time it is?” Trina smiled.

“Half past nine, miss.” He pointed to a clock behind him.

She thanked him again and continued her stroll, this time to baggage claim. Hoisting her luggage up onto a trolley, she walked the last stretch down a short corridor that led to where families and chauffeurs waited to retrieve passengers.

Tons of people stood there, waiting to greet their loved ones and paying fares.

The image of a tall, brooding man snagged Trina’s peripheral vision. He reminded her of Daniel. She supposed any tall, heavily muscled man in his mid-thirties would remind her of him for a while.

She sighed, telling herself to get a grip on reality. She pushed her cart past the swell of the throng, muscles aching in protest. A little bit more of a walk and she’d be outside, breathing in the fresh English air as she waited in a taxi queue.

“Trina.”

She came to an immediate halt. The hair at the nape of her neck stirred. Could it be…?

No. It couldn’t be.

“Trina.”

Her pulse took off, accelerating at a rapid pace.

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She’d know that voice anywhere. It had haunted her for years.

She turned around slowly, blue eyes rounded, afraid she’d imagined his voice.

And then she saw him, Daniel Hunter, and an alligator smile enveloped her face.

He was here. He had come after her.

“Daniel,” she breathed out, her voice shaky. “What are you doing here?”

He answered Trina with a kiss, a numbing, possessive kiss that made her tingle with giddy joy from head to toe. They held each other for a long moment, embracing as if they meant to never again let go.

Maybe this time they wouldn’t. Maybe this time the world of dreams had become reality.

“You didn’t really think I’d let you get away from me twice, did you? Sorry, baby, but you’re mine now. I’m never letting go again. Never.” Daniel rasped against her ear, hugging her tightly.

“I love you so much,” Trina at last admitted out loud. Her voice caught just a little. “I’ve always loved you, Daniel.”

Their gazes met and held.

Daniel rubbed her back, pulling her as close as humanly possible.

“I’ve always loved you, Trina.” His smile came slowly, contentment and happiness sparking in the dark eyes that somehow no longer seemed unfathomable. “And I always will.”

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Diary Entry It’s amazing how fast time flies. I used to record my thoughts in this journal every day, but life got busy and, well, before I knew what had happened, I’d forgotten about you altogether.

Sorry about that, my dear electronic friend.

It’s been six years since my last entry. Lots of changes have occurred in my life since the last time I typed out my thoughts to you.

Marriage to Daniel, two children—

Oh and Dad got remarried, too! We’re still waiting on Sarah, but I think my sister is a confirmed bachelorette.

Anyway, getting back to Daniel…

He took an earlier flight out, making him able to greet me that day at Gatwick airport. We were engaged within the hour and married just a few weeks later.

Some people might call that spontaneous, but nothing had ever felt more right to us.

Daniel didn’t want to return to the States any more than I did, so we carved out a new life in London together. I ended up resigning from Cambridge so I could concentrate on my plays fulltime. London seemed the logical choice.

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My career has never been better and I’ve even started writing a few movie scripts. The first one comes out next year. I’m not sure if I’ll write any more of those, though—it depends on how true to form the director stays.

Daniel gave up his law practice in Ohio and referred his clients to an attorney he trusted. He’s not licensed to practice in the U.K. and, truth be told, has no desire to return to that field. My husband found his happiness in raising our kids and managing our accounts. If someone would have told me six years ago that the brooding, gruff Daniel Hunter would find inner completion wiping butts and making dinner, I never would have believed them. It seems at odds with his commanding size and presence, yet suits him to a tee.

I gave birth to our daughter, Amy, a year after Daniel and I got married. She’s five years old now, healthy and vibrant, her blonde hair and dimpled smile inherited from her namesake. Somehow it seemed right naming our daughter after her aunt. If it hadn’t been for the first Amy, after all, the second one never would have existed.

Our son came next, a year and a half after his sister. Jackson has his father’s dark hair, my blue eyes and my sister Sarah’s penchant for hilarious drama.

Everything is a Kodak moment to Jackson. I’m sure he’ll grow out of it, and if not, well, there’s always the situation comedies on the BBC.

In case you’re wondering what happened to Daniel’s parents, you’ll be happy to know that they eventually came around. Gus was a piece of cake and behind our marriage from the get-go. Melissa was a bit—okay, a lot—more obstinate, but her ice slowly began to melt after Amy’s birth. By the time I had Jackson, we were not only mother-in-law and daughter-in-law, but also good friends.

It took me a long time to work up the nerve to ask Melissa why she’d disliked me so strongly for all of those years. The conversation had been a difficult one for her, but she eventually admitted that blaming me for her daughter’s downfall had been easier than looking in the mirror and blaming herself.

Being a mother myself now, I can comprehend why Melissa felt the way she did.

The issue she is still working through, and could be working through for some time to come, is in

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realizing that nobody was to blame for Amy’s drug addiction.

Bad things sometimes happen to good people. Often there is no rhyme or reason to it. It’s almost three o’clock. Damn, how time flies. My husband will be home at any moment with the kids so I better close down shop for now.

I promise not to wait another six years to bring you up to speed, old friend. I can’t begin to imagine what life has in store for my family for the next six years, but with Daniel by my side I know it can only be good things.

Yeats once wrote: How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love false or true; But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you. That’s what Daniel has given me. The gift of knowing I am loved for who I am.

In the end, isn’t that the only thing all of us really want? I’m happy. So very damn happy. And now it’s time to sign off.

Goodnight, old friend.

The End

About the Author

Critically acclaimed and highly prolific, Jaid Black is the USA Today best-selling author of numerous erotic romance tales. Her first title, The Empress’ New Clothes, was recognized as a readers’ favorite in women’s erotica by Romantic Times magazine.

Jaid lives in central Florida with her two children. In her spare time, she enjoys traveling, shopping, and furthering her collection of African and Egyptian art. She welcomes mail from readers. You can visit her on the web at www.jaidblack.com or write to her c/o Ellora’s Cave Publishing at 1056 Home Avenue, Akron, OH 44310-3502.

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